Midnight Variety Vignettes at the Polar Bar
by Flamingo1
Summary: Um...a sort of one shot show, I suppose you'd call it. This episode: wardrobe malfunctions!
1. Peep, peep, peep

A/N: I should be working on any of the numerous stories I have in the planning stages. I really should. This little idea hit me (literally) in the middle of an extremely boring Health class, and stuck. Since then I've come up with more and more one-shots, so I should actually update this story rather quickly (it's a miracle I tell you, a miracle!).  
  
Uh...none of these are connected at all. In any way whatsoever. Some are song fics, some are funny or sad or romantic. Sorta whatever catches my notice, if you know what I mean.  
  
Disclaimer: Wow, you know, I've tried and tried and tried...Stan Lee just won't return my phone calls. Guess that means he didn't want the three Saltines I offered for the X-Men...oh well, life goes on I suppose.  
  
Random Quote: "Why do I need to know English? I'm never going to England!" –Homer Simpson  
  
^^^^^^  
  
The scene opens to a stage as one might see in a comedy or poetry reading club. A single spotlight highlights the polished wood floor of the stage. The audience is in blackness, but that's ok, because there is no audience. Just a lonely old man in a blue and red striped pair of coveralls, with a nametag reading Bob. He is, in fact, the night janitor at this loneliest of clubs called the Polar Bar. However, the name isn't important, and neither is Bob.  
  
Human eyes are naturally drawn to contrast, so your eye is drawn to the spotlight on the stage. A fifteen-year-old girl stumbles out onto the stage, dressed in a pink and turquoise ballerina outfit. Her long dark brown hair is in a messy braid. She peers around at the non-existant audience and straightens her tutu skirt. Then she starts speaking:  
  
"All right, my lovely sister forced me into being here and wearing this, so I might as well get it over with. This is the Midnight Variety Vignette Show and I am your reluctant host, Trista Black. Each of these chapters will be a short ficlet or idea from my twin sister Jessica. This first one centers on Easter and a rather annoyed Rahne. So, please, sit back, tell the butler if you'd like anything to drink, and enjoy the show."  
  
As the girl finishes speaking, she turns around and attempts to pull down an overhead screen from the wall behind her. True to the nature of such things, it takes five tries and a planetary alignment to get it to stay down. Still cussing at the obdurate screen under her breath, Trista takes a hasty bow and exits, stage left.  
  
The light shifts from a spotlight to a projector light and the screen forms a scene of the outside front lawn of the Xavier Institute for Gifted Youngsters...  
  
^^^^^  
  
12:45 PM  
  
Wolfsbane trotted across the lawn towards a group of mutants engaged in a game of Frisbee. As she went, she considered who would be the best of the assembled to get her out of her current predicament with a minimum of embarrassment. Her options weren't very good; the choice was between John, Amara, Jamie, Ray and Roberto. Neither Ray or Roberto would ever leave her alone if they found out her problem, and Amara would probably help but...Rahne didn't really relish the idea of blackmail by princess. John...she didn't know him THAT well yet, and he was crazy anyway. Jamie seemed to be the only option as he could be bribed or threatened into not telling anyone.  
  
During this period of contemplation, she reached the group and stopped by Jamie. He absentmindedly patted her on the head while still focusing on John and Amara who were batting the Frisbee back and forth with huge fire birds. Rahne growled quietly and pawed at Jamie's leg impatiently. Multiple looked down at her, and asked in a rather annoyed tone of voice:  
  
"What do you want Rahne? I'm kinda busy..."  
  
Deciding that he wasn't worth her time, she sighed (as much as a wolf can sigh) and left.  
  
12:57 PM  
  
Rahne entered the medical lab in one of the sub-basements to a rather disturbing (to some people scene). The residents of the Xavier Institute had quite gotten used to it however and it no longer bothered them to see a blue furred NFL linebacker in a white lab coat and spectacles sitting at a table doing diabolical (*ahem*) experiments. Accordingly, Wolfsbane took no notice of it, merely noting the strong odor of carrots, cocoa and curry all mixed together. (Try mixing that all together in a pan with noodles, then trying to eat it. NOT a good thing...and yes, I did do that, sad to say. Anywhoo, back to the story, all right? Get those cameras out of my face! Damn paparazzi!) Doctor Hank McCoy was studiously focused on his current diabolical (*ahem*) experiment, which currently involved dumping a test tube full of pink bubbly liquid (CHAMPAGNE!!) into a lit Bunsen burner. So, in accordance with all the rules of these kinds of things, Rahne walked over and whined...and when that didn't get a reaction, she whined again and pawed at his leg. Beast carefully moved the tube away from the burner and peered down his nose at her. (Wow, that sentence sounded disturbing.)  
  
"Miss Sinclair, this is a very diabol-uh, delicate experiment. If you would please refrain from shaking me while I am attempting to meld these two chemical compounds it would be extremely helpful."  
  
Well, what could she do? Rahne just shook her head and backed away slowly, so as not to draw attention from the evi-I mean, good Dr. McCoy.  
  
1:17 PM  
  
This was it. The end of the road. Finally, she had found the salvation she'd gone all over the mansion grounds looking for. Had braved the dark shadow of the garage with the cloned X-Vans, Mr. McCoy's lab, Rogue's room, and that was just for starters. Her savior stood before her in faded jeans and a flannel shirt, making a fried egg sandwich (Y'know, my stepdad makes the absolute BEST fried egg sandwiches. He puts cheese on- Wait; you probably didn't read this for my expose on sandwiches, huh? Right, back to the story!). At the sound of Wolfsbane's paws on the linoleum, Sam Guthrie turned to look and see if perhaps she wanted a sandwich as well. When he asked though, all he got was a shake of her head and a muted whine. This all rather confused him and he said so:  
  
"Rahne, what's going on?"  
  
In answer, she pawed at her muzzle and whined again. Then she gestured towards the trashcan with her nose. He looked into the receptacle (love that word!) and saw something least expected as Easter had been gone for at least three weeks: a box of those lovely colorful, sticky, sweet PEEPS!!!! Now, normally this would not cause that much alarm, but this box was EMPTY. Which meant that someone had eaten them. And if that someone was Rahne in her Wolfsbane form...  
  
Sam sighed:  
  
"Rahne, again? I thought the Professor told you to quit eating them as a wolf!"  
  
All that followed that exasperated comment was a whine and the 'puppy dog' look.  
  
"Ok, ok, I'll go get the Alka-Seltzer."  
  
^^^^^  
  
The scene cuts back to the stage. Trista flips the screen back with a satisfying snap and dusts off her hands. The projector light sputters back to a spotlight and refocuses on Trista. She looks up and realizes that they are, in fact, still running this little show. Hurriedly going to the microphone, she looks around and says:  
"Thank you for attending, if you'd like to leave a review-wait, why am I saying this? All I'm supposed to do is introduce this circus! You never said anything about end host duties! It's not in my contract! I'm calling my agent! And the Better Business Bureau! This'll never stick! I'll sue you for everything you've got!"  
  
By this time she is furiously yelling at the ceiling and shaking her fist. Abruptly, the lights flick off and the stage is thrown into blackness (hitting an elephant on the way in. Someone should tell them to stay out of the way...). The distinct sounds of someone being hit over the head with a frying pan then dragged unconscious from the scene manifest. Finally there is nothing but silence and Bob clapping. But who really cares about Bob anyway?  
  
^^^^^  
  
All right folks, love? Hate? Are you having homicidal or lovey-dovey tendencies right now? And how does THAT make you feel? (Sorry, bad inside joke that no one should ever, ever be subjected to but I am anyway, cause I can...) Anyway, I have actually discovered some things about myself while writing this particular fic. I am highly suspicious of Beast and his little lab. He could totally be planning...something. I mean, all I know is what I would do in a lab full of highly reactive chemicals and fire...(laughs) yeah, ok, moving on. I LOVE peeps...I get very, very, very hyper when I get peeps...they're not just for Easter anymore either! Gots um for most alla de holidays now...well, gotta go, catch y'all later and PLEASE, dear God, leave a review! Desperate for feedback over here! 


	2. I never pictured this

Author's Note: Um...my friends are the only ones who have reviewed this story so far...many thanks to them, they know who they are...hope that more people start reading though!

Disclaimer: M&M's are yellow, red, green and blue, I don't own X-Men, and neither do you.

Random Quote: "Anything which does not kill me had better do enough damage to keep me from firing back."

We find ourselves again at this most desolate of hangouts, the Polar Bar. The janitor is nowhere to be seen. However, the show has begun rather late and it is highly possible that he had something better to do than wait around and watch this sorry excuse for entertainment. Without further ado, the audience lights go down and the stage spotlight comes up on the teenage girl from last episode sitting on a four-legged stool in the middle of the stage. She is dressed in an all black outfit, with an odd little hat perched on her head. It looks a bit like one of those boats you make out of the newspaper, but I digress, and I'm sure you want to read the fic. The girl grabs the microphone and announces:

"This was a collaboration between the authoress and I, so I do take partial responsibility for it. However, I would like it known that all fluff is her fault. Thank you."

She turns, yanks down the projector screen and scuttles off the stage with her stool.

Most of the population of the teenage mutant group known as the X-Men was seated in a circle around a crackling campfire. All the normal earmarks of camping were scattered about, with pine trees, tents, a full moon and a lake. The kids conversed and laughed, grateful to be momentarily free of their responsibilities as super-heroes, not to mention the tyrannical rule of their resident quasi-drill sergeant, Wolverine. (lightning flashes and organ music sounds from off in the distance)

Tonight though, and for the rest of the week, they don't have to worry about Logan, for they are on vacation, with no adults. As the conversations wind down, a certain red haired bit- I mean, uh, wench...pipes up with an idea.

"Hey, let's, like, start making the s'mores!"

Everyone made various sounds of agreement and started rummaging in the grocery bags that were piled to one corner of the camp along with coolers of unmarked drinks. Marshmallows, graham crackers, and toasting forks were quickly produced. However one key ingredient was missing...that's right...the Hershey bars! (cough product placement!) AAAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (runs in circles for a few minutes, screaming, then abruptly smacks into a brick wall that heretofore did not exist. But that's the way of such things, I suppose....)

The interrogation began immediately...presided over by the redheaded wench from before, who shall now be known as Jean. A pony-tailed girl named Kitty was appointed prosecution, for the two were cohorts in the scheme to pin the theft of the chocolate on the boys. Except for Jamie...he's cute.... Not in **that** way...dirty pervs.

This plot was assisted by the fact that all the boys were seated to one side of the campfire. Except for Scott...cause he's a whipped mama's boy. But he quickly scooted over to sit with his fellow phallic bearers...except for Jamie... he's toasting leaves...dirty pervs.

Kitty spoke first:

"Now, we know that at least one of you stole the chocolate that was meant for the s'mores. What we don't know is who it was. However, Jean is perfectly capable of finding out...so you may as well confess now."

Sheepishly Sam, Bobby and Scott raised their hands under the disapproving glares of the girls...and Jamie. Scott proceeded to elbow Remy, who was sitting beside him. Remy slowly looked at his assailant out of the corner of his eye (so unsettling shudder). Scott tensed.

"Oh, sorry... my arm, uh, slipped. Please don't hurt me?"

Rogue snorted softly. "He's not that scary."

Remy made a face at her. She laughed and threw a marshmallow at him, which he neatly caught in his mouth. Judging by his grin, this game would have gone on longer, but Jean just had to intervene.

"As much as I love the thought of the two of you flirting, we need to focus here. Scott Summers, Robert Drake and Samuel Guthrie are all convicted of chocolate theft. Remy LeBeau is convicted of conspiracy in the theft of chocolate. They are sentenced to the walk back into town and buy more Hershey bars. Rogue will escort them and make sure the guys don't get into too much trouble."

"Excuse me!?"

"You heard me...c'mon, it won't be that difficult."

"Says you."

"Please, Rogue?"

"Fine...if I get to keep the change."

Jean nodded, satisfied. Then Kitty leaned over to speak in her ear. They conversed quietly for a minute or so, and then both girls broke down laughing. Finally managing to get a hold of herself, Kitty stood and addressed the convicts.

"We have decided that, in addition to having to make the chocolate run, all participants shall be in costume."

"Uh..."

10 minutes later...

"Jean, I'm truly sorry I stole the chocolate, only please, please don't make me wear this into town." Scott was literally on his knees, begging for mercy from Jean. He was attired in a neon blue muumuu with a bright pink floral design. Jean was busily shaping his hair into pigtails attached with yellow, fuzzy barrettes.

Bobby and Sam were not much better off. Jubilee, Amara, John, Jamie and Rahne had been given the task of their transformation. Sam's hair was spiked with glue and spray-painted purple. His sensible jeans and flannel shirt had been traded for a green baby-T top and funky felt bellbottoms. He was also wearing black and white flip-flops.

Iceman had been forced into a padded yellow bra, with a matching set of underwear adorning his head. His face was fully made up, and there was a smiley-face sticker attached to his stomach.

Remy was the only one who wasn't completely humiliated. All they could talk him into wearing was a tinfoil tiara, fashioned by Kitty.

Finally, the costumers turned to Rogue, who backed away with her hands raised, saying:

"I'll dress myself, thank you very much."

She disappeared into the tent she shared with Kitty for about ten minutes, while the others heard various sounds associated with un-dressing and dressing, including the very clear snap of a bra-strap and a muffled oath.

Rogue stepped out from the tent in what was honestly the sexiest outfit any of them had ever seen her in. A form-fitting, maroon wool dress hugged the curves of her body, ending at mid-thigh. Zip-up black leather boots reached to her knees and long black opera gloves ended at her shoulders, emphasizing the fact that the dress was strapless. Blushing just a little bit, she executed a little twirl showing off the back of her outfit. Rogue stopped suddenly and grinned self concisely.

"Well, how'd I do?"

Her answer was five whistles, three catcalls, and a rolled-up twenty-dollar bill. The latter being from Jean (pause for dramatic effect and bad mental images) as it was the money for the Hershey bars.

Rogue shrugged off the overtures, grabbed a nearby Coleman lantern, and gestured to her walking companions.

"C'mon, time's wasting."

As one man, the guys motioned for her to go ahead. Sighing, she flicked on the lantern and started up the trail. Remy followed immediately, tailed by Sam, Bobby, and Scott.

The males of the expeditionary team were beginning to get a tad worried about their lone female companion. She had gotten ahead of the rest of them, tripped, and fallen off the trail. Her screams had resounded through the woods, startling them into running after her (Scott hiking up his muumuu to his knees and Sam sliding in ill-fitting flip flops). When they'd arrived screeching to a halt at the spot where it was clear Rogue had crashed into the underbrush, instead of screams they heard...giggling?

It was in fact, everyone's favorite Southern girl laughing, cursing and screaming all at the same time. Pretty much it went:

"(laughs) Okay...quit now, that tickles...Holy shit! What the hell?...Oh, no...(gasp)...wow, that was interes-(screech)...this is getting ridiculous...get off of me!"

And so on and so forth. To those listening who were versed in such matters, it sounded a little bit like Rogue had some 'company' in the bush with her. Sam (who wasn't) blushed crimson and said:

"I-I'm just gonna go back to camp real quick, I gotta use the bathroom..."

His blush got even worse when he realized what he'd just said, while the rest of them stared at him. Trying to fix it, he blurted out:

"Uh, I didn't mean it like that, or, I mean, not how it came out, not that I think about that or anything...oh, hell..."

Finally Sam gave up and ran for it, but since he is kind of one of those bumbling guys, he ran into a tree and knocked himself unconscious. In the meantime, the noise from behind Rogue's stand of shrubbery had quieted to silence. No one ventured a single word until she spoke.

"Remy, I need to borrow your coat."

Bobby and Scott looked surprised by the request, but Gambit obligingly took off his long jacket and handed it around a tree to Rogue. A minute later, she stepped from behind the screening plants, wrapped in the over large (on her) trench coat. It was buttoned to the neck and reached all the way to her lower calf. Noticing all the inquiring looks, she muttered:

"I got attacked by moths, okay? Just don't ask."

Without another word, she stalked off up the trail to where Sam lay under an immense pine tree. The other guys walked after her, Scott looking confused, Bobby slightly disappointed, and Remy completely neutral. After Sam was roused and set back on his feet, the five resumed walking with Rogue in the lead.

Scott noticed shortly afterward that Remy had begun grinning as he watched Rogue ahead of them (Not that the Cajun hadn't been doing that all night, but still.). The leader of the X-Men leaned in towards his companion and whispered:

"What's up?"

Remy looked over at the slightly stick-in-the-mud guy beside him and his grin grew wider. He replied:

"She's naked...in my coat."

The lights come up and the girl runs back out onto the stage (setting down her drink first). She pulls up the screen, then faces the (nonexistent) crowd.

"Thanks for coming out everyone. I have a party to get to and so if you'd all please just leave a review in the pretty box over there," she gestures at the tip receptacle, "and file on out of here, that'd be great!"

She runs off stage and out the door (stopping first to grab her drink) where the sound of a car revving and then speeding away floats back into the bar. A lone cricket chirps till the lights go dark.

Right...so, like, dislike? As aforementioned, please leave a review.


End file.
